


flotsam

by butteredbandits



Series: Roche Week 2021 [5]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Background Character Death, Depression, Gen, Planet Scar Syndrome | Geostigma, Roche Week 2021, Suicidal Thoughts, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 13:54:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29065428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butteredbandits/pseuds/butteredbandits
Summary: Roche struggles to find his place in the wake of Midgar’s wreckage, and the geostigma isn’t making his life any easier
Relationships: Roche & Cloud Strife
Series: Roche Week 2021 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2125632
Kudos: 11





	flotsam

**Author's Note:**

> I really put Roche through the wringer here. AU and super speculative, so bear with me while I try to squeeze him into Advent Children's setting. Based heavily off what I learned from The Kids are Alright and On The Way to a Smile. I was trying to imagine what Roche might be like if he really felt broken, and tried to capture that.
> 
> Some unnamed characters die, and I touch on how gruesome geostigma is. Nothing that wouldn't be typical for canon, but given the current times I just want to make sure I give a heads up so people can choose if they're up for it.

The sight before Roche in the mirror was gruesome. Black patches of skin along the edge of his hairline seethed with black foam, sending jabs of pain through his skin that reached through his nerve endings until it lanced through the very marrow of his bones. It oozed down his face in sickly, tingling trails that begged him to wipe it away. He grit his teeth and gripped the porcelain sink until cracks formed, he couldn’t close his eyes. He had to see it for himself. 

“Roche?” That was Kunsel, looking to herd him back to bed.

No, not yet. He just had to hold out a little longer. Roche cried out with a muffled groan as the pain redoubled and sent his vision fuzzy around the edges. There- in the mirror, he watched with horror as his pupils distorted into slits. Just like Sephiroth’s. For a moment his reflection transformed to an image of the former general, silver hair snapping in the wind- no. 

Roche wasn’t going to submit to  _ his _ will. A hissing whisper began to build in the back of his mind and before he understood why, suddenly the mirror was shattered. His knuckles ached with a different kind of pain. Droplets of blood and geostigma ichor glittered alongside shards of the mirror in the bowl of the sink like twisted glitter. His vision flashed to black for a brief moment. The next jolt of pain wrung a scream out of him, and in the next instant he was lying on the floor. Roche felt distant from himself as he watched the bathroom door open and a pair of boots rush towards him.

As quickly as the pain had come on, it vanished, leaving fatigue in its wake that immediately dragged him down into a fitful sleep full of fragmented memories. 

-

Roche had given up his dreams of being a hero the minute he learned the truth about the SOLDIER program, from Genesis himself. They were destined to be monsters, and he’d accepted that as fact for a long time. Then he met Cloud, and dared to dream again. At first that he could die at the end of a worthy opponent’s sword, rather than being taken by degradation. Then later that he was worth saving, that he might be able to do something with what was left of his life.

Then Meteor arrived, and with it came a new kind of despair the world had never felt before. But there was hope too. Cloud and his friends were going to fight, for everyone, for the planet, for the future. Roche had followed Cloud on his journey, and the few battles they shared always ended in a draw, neither of them choosing to kill the other. It’d mystified him, and kept him coming back to chase that feeling of worth he seemed to get from fighting with the other SOLDIER. What had started as a last-ditch effort to avoid his fate turned into something else, love, which only seemed to hurt more. 

He hadn’t expected Kunsel to call him. A contingent of SOLDIER had gone independent under Kunsel’s lead and they needed help evacuating Midgar. Roche’s skills as a driver were needed in particular. It felt like the right thing to do, so for the first time in nearly a year, Roche went back home. Mayhem was what greeted him. 

There was only one course of action, gather up as many people as they could and get them out of the blast zone, though Roche knew deep down that there wasn’t anywhere on the planet far away enough. It was just to make everyone feel better about their inevitable death. He was used to lying to himself. 

No one had known how devastating the lifestream could be. Roche had been with those driving out of the city, the last batch of survivors all huddled together in the back of trucks, speeding across the plains. When chasms opened in the earth, there had been hardly any time to react. He’d been forced to slam the brakes and turn hard to avoid dropping into the planet’s core, which sent the truck careening on its side. The less fatal choice, as awful as it was. 

Roche was knocked unconscious during the rollover, and when he woke it was to the sounds of screams. The windshield had shattered, allowing him to crawl out of the wrecked cab. His body ached, he'd been out long enough to regenerate from what felt like several broken bones. Had he never been a SOLDIER, he wouldn't have survived.

The sky above was clear. The only evidence of Meteor's presence left was the disastrous state of Midgar visible on the horizon. 

The convoy fleeing Midgar was in shambles. Only a handful of trucks had escaped crashing into rubble or disappearing into the fissures that had opened up. Death unlike anything Roche had seen since his days in Wutai surrounded him. More than made sense for what happened. 

Only two people in his truck had survived out of twelve. Roche was able to push the truck over, but it didn't matter to the crushed bodies beneath. One of the casualties had been a little girl, hardly six years old. Her mother's wail of despair was the worst sound Roche had ever heard in his life. 

It was his fault. If only he'd been going slower, he could have avoided flipping the truck. Something raw inside of him opened up, was it guilt? 

Four of the victims were covered in an alarming black substance. At first Roche thought it was some kind of burn, but closer examination showed that it was a film on the surface of the skin. 

It was a portent of doom, if only he'd understood what it meant back then. 

-

Six months later he saw the mother of the little girl that had died. She was being thrown onto a pile of corpses that had been killed by the mysterious plague ravaging the survivors of the calamity. Treated without human dignity. Like trash, waiting to be burned. 

His own gaze reflected back from cold dead eyes, and he felt something in his heart break. 

Would that woman and her daughter have survived if he hadn't tried to play at being a hero? There had been so many moments in his life where he flirted with death. How many people could have lived if fate had taken him sooner? Not to mention the dozens of people he'd killed while he still believed Shinra was making a better world. 

He should have died instead. 

Pain shot through his right arm then, a jolt of it going all the way through to his chest. His skin went glassy and for a few moments he wondered if one of the gods had heard him and decided to grant his wish. 

-

The survivors were building a city to the east of Midgar's ruins. Roche didn't belong in a healing world. 

Kunsel had tried to convince him to stick around and help with the construction, but Roche was struggling to hide his geostigma. It had spread up his arm and the back of his neck, and tendrils of it were starting to creep under his hair. It wouldn't be much longer until it reached his face. He left behind his PHS and started to drive west, with the full intention of setting up camp wherever he ran out of gas. He'd find a quiet place to spend his last days. 

That had been the intention at least. 

The morning after he set up his meager camp the sound of a distant motorcycle woke him up. As depressed and miserable as he was, his heart still skipped a beat at the realization of who it was. He left his tent and sat, waiting as Cloud approached. 

Cloud parked next to Roche's motorcycle. Several canisters of gasoline were strapped to the back of his motorcycle, it looked like he was headed out for a longer journey. 

"Did you miss me?" Roche teased. 

Cloud didn't respond at first. He unlatched two of the gas canisters and set them on the hood of Roche's bike before approaching. 

"Kunsel asked me to keep an eye out for you." Cloud stated, his tone was quiet and there was concern in his eyes. 

Cloud retrieved Roche's PHS from his pocket and gently tossed it into his lap. 

"I don't need this anymore." Roche stood up and held it back out towards Cloud. "Give it to someone who needs it."

Cloud narrowed his eyes, then he seemed to realize what was happening. "You have the stigma." 

Roche's chest ached, why did it hurt to have Cloud look at him that way? Wasn't this what he desired for so long? To feel wanted? Cared for? 

"Better that I leave a hospital bed to someone who deserves it." Roche said, pushing the phone towards Cloud once more. 

"I didn't think you were the type to give up." Cloud crossed his arms over his chest, refusing to take the device back. It was then that Roche noticed the mismatched sleeves, and the dark circles under Cloud's eyes. He had it too, but he hadn't given up. The disappointment in the other man's voice cut him to the core. He wasn’t just disappointed, he was  _ hurt _ .

"If you change your mind, I'm trying to find answers." Cloud turned on his heel, leaving Roche stunned in his wake. 

When Roche opened his PHS he noticed a new contact at the top of the list. It was Cloud. There were several missed calls from Kunsel, several from numbers he didn’t recognize, and even a few from Reno. 

Was he truly worth all the trouble?

-

Roche woke to the sound of a distant explosion, he jerked up and groaned as the quick motion resulted in a nauseating wave of vertigo. Another explosion went off, and then shortly after the ground quaked. He looked down to see that his knuckles were wrapped in bandages. He’d become so used to the sight of black that the blood on the fabric nearly startled him. He wasn’t dreaming anymore, and there truly was a battle raging outside.

Recalling all those memories put into perspective just how broken he’d let himself become. Roche didn’t want to die lying in a bed, feeling sorry for himself. Angeal’s lectures about honor, and Genesis’ desire to be a hero came to mind. If he just laid down and let himself die, he’d be disrespecting their memories. 

Despite the pain Roche struggled out of bed. The warehouse that the former-SOLDIERs had commandeered was close to the highway that led into Midgar’s ruins. Over half of the contingent was laid up with the stigma, and the few doctors and nurses here to treat them had their hands full keeping their patients calm. This was as good an opportunity to make a break for it as any. 

He didn't know where his motorcycle was being kept. He only recalled making it back to Edge in time to have a geostigma attack, and then waking up in Kunsel’s care. If Roche had to guess, the guy didn’t want to let anyone else end up like Zack. Another lost soul, someone whose memory deserved to be honored. 

Just as Roche exited the main building the ground quaked again. He lost his footing and had to lean on the wall for support. In the distance he spotted a monster, charging up a shimmering blue ball of fire and pointing it towards the ground. What the hell was going on? A summon like that required an immense amount of energy to be conjured. 

A small speck was hurtling through the sky towards it. There was only one person Roche could think of who could pull something off like that.  _ Cloud _ . 

He had to get there, he had to help fight. Roche used the wall of the building to keep steady as he pushed through the pain to keep moving. He could feel the geostigma burning away at his skin, whatever was going on was making it agitated. The limited sunlight was enough to bore into his sensitive eyes. Roche remembered the image in the mirror and knew then, that the stigma, the fighting, it was Sephiroth’s will, lingering. 

Roche found his bike in the garage building. While there wasn’t anyone to be found, the keys to his bike were on the seat. A silent message. Kunsel no doubt. Letting him leave, perhaps even hoping he’d get up and fight, despite it all. 

Roche got into the seat and took a slow, steadying breath before leaning forward to grip at the handlebars. As the engine roared to life beneath him, his heart sped up in kind, and he felt more alive than he’d been before. 

He smiled for the first time in months, thinking of that first fight he’d had with Cloud. 

-

The summon had fallen from the sky by the time Roche was on the highway. In the distance he could hear the sound of multiple motorcycles, and a helicopter, alongside guns firing. As badly as his heart wanted to be in the fight, he could feel his body protesting. Each bump in the road and every turn felt like hell as the geostigma intensified. 

It seemed that he wasn’t meant to play a part in this battle. Roche grit his teeth and came to a stop as another attack wracked through his body. 

‘ _ Stay out of this _ ’, that was Sephiroth’s voice hissing in the back of his mind.

Roche choked on a pained sob as he tried to fight the rising curtain of black taking over his vision. Before he could even try to get off his bike and sit down, the highway shuddered beneath him and Roche watched with dawning horror as a massive bomb went off, cutting off his route to the ruins of Midgar. Cracks spread out from the explosion site, and within seconds the ground fell out from beneath him as the highway collapsed. 

-

_ Plip. _

Roche slowly opened his eyes. His entire body thrummed with agony, he was surrounded in rubble, and it wasn’t his own fault for a change. The fight was over. He felt lighter somehow.

That first drop of rain turned into a steady shower. The sun shone through a break in the clouds, casting a rainbow through the sky. Roche couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen a sky so beautiful.

Where each raindrop landed, a gentle warmth was left. It spread, and then the sensation concentrated where the geostigma had taken root in his skin. Roche looked down and watched as the lifestream carried it away in shimmering green motes. 

Yet again, he’d been spared from death. He couldn’t tell if he was laughing or crying anymore as he reached up, hands extended to catch the drops of rain. 

As broken as the world was, as broken as he was, there would be time to heal after all.

**Author's Note:**

> I won't be posting a fic for the 6th day of Roche week, as it's wrapped up into the final day's fic. I'll be nicer to him in the next story, I promise!


End file.
